August 2007 Archives

Tammy and I are going to Manhattan this weekend, and I can’t wait! New York is one of my favorite places to visit, and I enjoy traveling in general.

To prep for the trip, I decided to read this disability blog carnival called “On Holiday,” which is all about traveling. I’m kind of surprised how many of the entries focus on disability-related challenges.

I’ve certainly faced some of the issues mentioned. My wheelchair has been damaged by the airlines, I’ve stayed in inaccessible hotel rooms, and I’ve even been left behind on a tour or two. Not fun. But these snags don’t stop me from traveling. They don’t even dominate my travel experiences. The fact that I travel in a wheelchair takes a back seat to having a great time on the journey.

That’s because I do a number of things to make traveling easier for myself. I always check in at the gate to get early boarding on the airplane, and I keep my wheelchair cushion with me because it would be easy to lose it in the cargo hold. I take direct flights so that I don’t have to worry about my wheels not making it from one plane to the next during a layover. And my friends and I do advance research on accessibility. Not to mention that we take advantage of our surroundings along the way. Did you know that some of the airline folks will let you sit on the bag scale to weigh yourself? Caryn suggested I try that on a trip we took, and we discovered that it’s a great way to weigh-in without having to stand up (if you really want to know how much you weigh).

But out of everything I’ve learned about traveling, I think the key to having a good time involves successfully managing expectations. For me that means several things.

It means I have to talk about what I want out of a trip with the people, or person, I’ll be traveling with before we leave. They need to know what I have in mind, and I need to know what they have in mind. Otherwise, somebody is bound to be disappointed, and accessibility issues are more likely to crop up. We'll have more fun if we’re on the same page.

It also means that to get on the “same page,” I have to be clear and honest about my physical limitations. I try to be very specific about explaining how my disability will affect the things we can and can’t do on a trip by saying things like, “Cobble stones are very hard to push a wheelchair on” or “Because I can’t push my chair through the sand, we can’t really go to the beach.” It’s my responsibility to speak up because my limitations will affect everyone. And if my limits are not okay, then it’s time to plan something else.

Finally, managing expectations means being honest with myself. This can be tough, but it is extremely important. There are some things I just can’t do or participate in. But that doesn’t mean that my friends and family should miss out on them just because I happen to be there. I have to know what I’m willing give up or not be a part of. I have to be willing to compromise. And my travel buddies have to be willing to compromise too.

So with that, I’ll say that my bags are almost packed, and I’m ready to hit the road! Tammy and I plan to go to SoHo, among many other wonderful New York neighborhoods. I know she is very aware of SoHo’s killer curbs because we’ve talked about our travel plan, and we’ve been there before. I think T’s shoulder still hurts from hoisting me up and down those curbs during our last visit. (Wink, wink!) But she’s game to tackle them again, and so am I. The shopping is so spectacular that it’s worth it! Look out New York!

Bridget
Originally uploaded by Zesmerelda

Because crazy things can happen!

I got an e-mail last night from one of my best friends from college with an idea for a blog entry. She writes:

"(One time) we went into the bathroom (at the movie theater), and there was a line, but the handicapped stall was empty. I was about to burst, and you told me to go ahead and use it first because you didn’t need to go that badly. I remember asking you what the “rules” were about using that stall and waiting in line. It was a very educational moment for me."

She goes on to suggest that I write an entry or two about “the rules” for dealing with disability because a lot of people “don’t know how to ask the questions they want to ask, or if those questions are even acceptable to ask.”

An excellent suggestion indeed! But before I launch what is sure to be a series of entries about what I think the rules are, I have to admit that I don’t even remember the incident she is referring to.

I’m sure it played out exactly as she says it did. I’m a firm believer that anyone can and should use the accessible restroom stall if it is the only one free. If there are other open stalls, use those first unless all of those are out of toilet paper. Then, it’s every woman for herself!

The point is, I don’t remember this incident because being in a wheelchair is so normal for me that the handicapped stall “rule” is second nature. It’s logical, as most of “the rules” are.

My friend’s wonderful e-mail reminds me that people with disabilities have a unique opportunity to be good teachers every day by being open about what they need and what they think. I can educate just by being active and living well. And that’s pretty cool!

I don’t remember telling my friend to go ahead and use the handicapped accessible stall, but I’m glad to know that she remembers.

Eating out? Here’s my top ten tips (in no particular order) to help make the experience more wheelchair friendly:

10. When making a reservation, let the restaurant know there will be a wheelchair in your party. Some places have a limited number of accessible tables, so it’s a good rule of thumb to plan ahead.

9. Let all of your dining partners know about potential accessibility issues. That way no one is caught off guard.

8. If you happen to be the one in the wheelchair, wear comfortable shoes. You never know when you might have to transfer out of your chair or, if you can, climb a few stairs.

7. Pick a restaurant that has a lot of space in between tables, especially if there is an electric wheelchair involved. Extra space means more room to navigate when the restaurant gets crowded.

6. If you can easily transfer out of your wheelchair into a booth, say so. Sometimes the seating host or hostess will assume that you can’t and that can mean waiting longer for a table.

5. If you want a good handicapped parking space, eat in the suburbs. Beautiful paved parking lots are everywhere out there.

4. In the city, pick restaurants located near accessible public transportation. If the transportation is accessible, the curb cuts are likely to be better too.

3. An accessible restroom is a must…especially toward the end of the evening… in a bar.

2. And speaking of bars, wine bars are more fun for people in wheelchairs than other types of bars. That’s because the tables are often lower. It’s always better to be able to look who you’re talking to in the eye without getting a neck cramp. And talking to someone perched on a bar stool all night almost always leads to neck cramping!

1. Go to sports bars that serve food. The tables are more likely to be low there too.

Thanks for suggesting I make a list, David! Check out the other top ten list entries in this carnival.

This ramp at Otom is placed over the stairs. Adobo Grill has a similar setup.

I went to Adobo Grill last night for dinner. Metromix says it’s handicapped accessible. In this case, that means an accommodating waiter puts a ramp over the stairs.

I usually surf Metromix to make sure a restaurant or bar is wheelchair friendly before I go there, especially if I’m on my own. Most of the time the site’s brief description tells me what I need to know but not always.

Adobo Grill and Karyn’s Cooked are both listed as accessible, but there are stairs to get into the restaurants. And Otom is listed as inaccessible for the same reason. But at Otom there is a nice portable ramp that can be set up upon request. All three places have accessible restrooms. So the differences in accessibility reports are a mystery. Or maybe a mistake? Who knows.

Obviously definitions of accessibility vary wildly. So what does "accessible" really mean?

For me, if there’s a ramp in back and I can get in and out on my own, that’s accessible enough. I don’t have to go in the front door, and I don’t mind cutting through the kitchen. (It’s always interesting to get a sneak preview of what’s being served anyway!)

And If I can navigate the garish angle of a board laid over a few stairs without killing myself, that’s accessible too. I’d like to have a friend along to spot me if I try it though.

In the end, accessibility is as much about good advance communication as it is about the physical set-up of a place.

My friend Dave, for example, took pictures of the stairs and hand railings at his walk-up before he bought it.

“Can you get up and down these stairs?” he asked, showing me the photos. “Because if I buy this place, I want you to be able to spend time there.”

I was flattered and floored that he had really thought it through. Stairs or not, his condo is one of the most accessible I’ve known.